<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Burning Touch of Love by orphan_account</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26554885">The Burning Touch of Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shall We Date?: Obey Me!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Graphic Description of Corpses, Porn, Porn With Plot, Semi Slow Burn, Violence, Work In Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:48:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,972</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26554885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You are an assassin sent to a grand Gala where are meant to terminate the Crowned Prince. Once dance later, your mission goes awry and you can't get him out of your head, and nor he you. While you disappear into the night, he orders his guards to scour every inch of the Devildom for you. Little did he know that the assassin his guards had already been on the lookout for was the same woman he sought to capture all to himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) &amp; Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Burning Touch of Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a testament to the fact that I am physically incapable of writing porn without a plot.</p><p>And sorry but porn next chapter, because I spent all day on this and ya girl is tired. Please enjoy this short ficlet that ended up being ~6000 words.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He spots you right away in the ballroom, his golden eyes trailing your figure as you glide across the floor, your sparkling black dress flowing behind you. Every human, demon, and angel in the room paled in comparison the moment he laid eyes on you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels himself edging closer, drawing nearer, needing to have another glimpse, no- a touch, no- a </span>
  <em>
    <span>taste</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you. He finally catches you by the balcony, your soft strands of rich chocolate hair blowing gently along your shoulders and your elegant golden earrings tingle in the breeze. The Demon Prince's breath caught in his throat, almost hesitating in his approach so as not to break the magic of the view in front of him. The low dip of your slim black dress, the lines of ink that adorned your back like added lace to your gown. The gold of your jewelry glitter in the light of the Devildom night, and you were just an added star amongst the horizon. The brightest one he can see. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if pulled by some sort of magic, he finally steps forward beside you. You jump slightly, the sheer size of his person compared to yours startling you as he appears in your peripheral vision. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You don't dare turn your head, but scan his profile as best you can as your heart pounds in your chest, your cheeks slowly tinting with red. You feel your body stiffen to stone, but a gentle chuckle disarms you. His rich timbre graces your ears as he finally breaks the silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't believe we have met. I am certain I would have remembered a beauty like you, and as Future King of the Devildom, this must be rectified." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns to you then, extending his hand out to you and bowing slightly, his auburn locks falling in his eyes. "I am Diavolo, Crowned Prince and Future King of the Devildom. May I have the pleasure of asking your name?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You quietly stutter out a word that sounds like your name and cautiously place your hand in his, trembling slightly. The warmth of his palm encompasses yours, and you stifle a gasp as he brings your hand to his lips in a chase kiss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mouth is full of sparkling fangs that would have terrified any regular human had there not been a certain tenderness behind his smile, and a curious hunger in his eyes. Your mouth feels dry and you swallow as he doesn't let go of your hand, but grasps it firmly instead. Not enough to crush your delicate palm, but enough that you couldn't tear yourself from his grip even if you had wanted to. He leads you out from the balcony and into the glow of the ballroom once more, loud voices and conversation halting when he reenters the room with you by the hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lights dim, and a spotlight from an unknown source is trained on the two of you as heads turn and a soft classical tune plays. He steps into the center of the room, you trailing behind him as he stops to face you again, hope in his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Forgive me," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear as he leans down. "It is customary that the Demon Prince welcomes a new visitor to the Devildom with a dance," he lies easily. Really, he just wanted a reason to be close to you and figure you out, why your aura was so alluring to him that he could feel himself growing intoxicated by the scent of your light perfume that wafted up from your beautiful cream neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shall we?" You swallow, your heart in your throat as you nod. "Yes, of course, my Lord." He grins and a joyous laugh escapes his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wonderful!" He steps even closer, the heat from his body radiating off him as he places your hand on his shoulder, and his hands find your waist, chastely resting on the small of your back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He almost trills in desire as his palm touches the curve of your back, the feel of your skin electric on his. He ached to explore the rest of your body, alone. He wonders if you could feel it too as you both step in time to the music, your steps unsure and hesitant, but masked by the sheer grace of his body swaying with yours.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can sense your hesitation and nervousness, and his palm presses you closer, bringing your chest flush with his. He dips down again, his lips brushing past your ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't look at them," he commands, "Look only at me." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifts your chin up to face him then, his amber eyes hypnotizing as you tentatively rest your arms on his shoulders, and place your hands behind his neck. He keeps you close, holding you gently as you sway, and the entire room begins to melt away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The song swells and crescendos before it ends, and you can feel Diavolo twirling you in space before he lifts you in the air with ease, your dress flowing like black liquid along your body. You look exquisite, and he vibrates in satisfaction as he relishes in the growing sense of envy amongst the attendees in the ballroom. Barbatos materializes next to the two of you, and coughs gently to get Diavolo's attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My Lord, it is about time for the toast," he states simply, his voice cool and matter of fact. He eyes you suspiciously, narrowing slightly in interest for a split second before returning to his usual expressionless mask. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His face reads nothing as Diavolo pulls away, the sudden absence of his warmth making you shiver as he brings a kiss to your knuckles once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My deepest apologies, princess. It seems I have more princely duties to attend to. I shall see to it that your arrival is properly received and that your stay in the Devildom is comfortable. Ask anything you need of me and you shall have it. Farewell, dearest dancing partner,” he says with a wink, “until next time." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You stand still in shock of what just happened for the next few moments before the brick of reality hits you atop the head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You are a fugitive, a peasant girl on trial for the accidental murder of a member of the Royal Guard. And everyone and their sister just watched you dance with the Crowned Prince himself. Your eyes widen in horror as you whip around, weaving through the crowd before you are caught.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You can feel a few bodies closing in on you with a sense of urgency and malicious intent. With a quick murmur on your lips and a touch to a rune on your skin, a patch of linoleum ices over and two burly demons slip and fall on top of each other, cursing in Infernal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You race out of the grand ballroom, running past the double doors and the confused looks of partygoers and attendants alike that question, "Miss?" You hide behind pillars and don't rest until you reach the entrance of the Castle, panting heavily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You go over the facts in your head. This was only supposed to be a quick mission. Get in, get out, slip poison in the drink of the Demon Prince and escape. Dancing with the target himself was not part of your plan. You felt his eyes on you since you had entered, in sheer panic and nervousness you tried to flee to the balcony for a moment of respite but he followed you, and even took you by the hand, charming you with a dance until you were a flustered mess. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You hoped, prayed, pleaded when he greeted you that the next few words wouldn't leave his lips when they did. "I am Diavolo, Crowned Prince and Future King of the Devildom." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the next few weeks, you had disappeared as quickly as you had arrived, regaining your composure after the close brush you had with imprisonment. Diavolo by then was nearly feral, antsy with the burning desire to see you again, hold you again, and feel your touch under his. You had to be his, he could feel in his soul that you were meant to wear his crown, that you were meant to rule beside him for millennia to come, you were his destined Queen. He had his guards scour every inch of the Devildom for your apparition, but to no avail. You were a trained shadow on the streets, slicker and more elusive than any demon that dare stalk you. The concentration of the Royal Guard on the streets made your blood run cold, and you were convinced that you had been caught, but you slipped through their incompetent fingers every time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure, your life of crime started with an accident, a slip of your fingers on the runes printed on your skin, lines of magic that you didn’t ask for, that you didn’t choose. You heard his screams of horror as he burned underneath his suit of armor, he struggled to rip it off but it was too late. It was too hot, too heavy, and the Infernal demon burnt and cooked through from the inside as he convulsed and fell, nothing but bones and ash as his shadowy essence dissipated into the Devildom air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Since your accident, you were abandoned by your family, all your loved ones and relatives deemed you a monster and abandoned you on the streets, cursing your entire existence with terror and malice. You did as well as you could in the streets, fumbling with your rune magic to steal food, clothes, and find shelter; it wasn’t your fault you couldn’t control your magic. It wasn’t your fault that over a dozen guards found themselves frozen, burned, electrocuted, or suffocated to death when no one taught you how to read the symbols and patterns that had been pressed onto your skin, clear as the sins and the guilt you bore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You were a plucky teenager jumping from one slum to the next, your accidents and misdeeds catching the attention of the gangs nearby that sought to abuse your power than teach you how to use it. You were a weapon. You were a soldier. It hardened you and prepared you for recruitment, you had been scouted and chosen by one of the most prestigious assassin agencies; a common and respected career in the Devildom, but you had been recruited to their underground top secret squadron of assassins: Team Judas. You had been part of a grand scheme for years to overthrow the Royal family, plucking off one useless noble after the other, but this had been your final mission, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the</span>
  </em>
  <span> mission, and you blew it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You touch your hair at least twice a week, using your rune magic to shift the color from deep blacks to blondes, reds, and even platinum white to keep the Royal Guard off your trail. You ditch your clothes and steal new ones from unsuspecting demon homes, burning the evidence of your presence with a snap of your fingers. Every mistake that you made at the Gala glares at you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What were you thinking?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You had attended in your most natural form, with no enhancements or changes to your appearance, not wanting to take the risk of looking too overdressed or over the top to fit in. You hadn't expected to be noticed, much less taken and danced with by the Demon Prince himself, parading you across the ballroom. You cursed at yourself and smacked your forehead. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid, stupid, stupid!</span>
  </em>
  <span> You had even confessed to him your real name, albeit one you haven’t used in decades since you began your life as a shadow, but still, had you learned nothing from your training and escaping from prison? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As much as you try to will it away, his smoldering smile and his honey eyes fill your vision every time you close them. You dream of him, sleeping on bus benches and roofs of houses, buildings, laying on manure stained hay in griffin stables. In your dreams, you are in his arms once again, his voice calling your name in a lowered octave, his tone clear with unbridled passion, need, and lust. You are beneath him, naked as the day you were born as he ravishes you, trilling with the pleasure of the music you sing just for him, the nectar your body weeps just for him, until a raised voice or a shout jolts you from your fantasy and you are on the road once again. He invades your thoughts as you invade his, an inexplicable connection that draws you to the other in an endless chase. You evade capture from his guards, but he has already seized your every waking thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You are the fugitive, but he is the captive, a slave to the wanton thoughts of you that haunt him every night. He holds a Gala every week now in search of your elusive frame, praying to his long abandoned God that you may materialize in his arms once again. Your name is the final word on his lips when he slumbers, and the first name he calls when he wakes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He drills his guards relentlessly to find you, scour the Human and Celestial realms if they had to, he must have you in his arms once again. He pleads for Barbatos to give up your whereabouts, at the very least to know of your wellbeing, if you live or- he couldn't even consider the latter. But Barbatos refuses every time with an inscrutable expression on his face that stays still as stone until Diavolo is red in the face in his demon form, his wings spreading menacingly before his loyal steward. And still, he does not budge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diavolo storms out of the Castle, guards and attendants calling after him, but he does not listen. He cannot hear them over the call of your name in his ears, in his heart. He did not know yet of your ancestry, of your connection to the fallen Lilith, and neither had you until it was brought to your attention during a certain mission where you had just barely skirted certain death at the hands of your brother Belphegor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was a contact of yours in the agency and one of the bigger whigs you had the honor of working with once your unmatched skills had reached the upper echelon, but his cooperative behavior turned sour once you denied him of your companionship. He had lunged at you in a fit of rage and pressed his claws to your neck as his menacing purple aura consumed your vision. Before you could lose consciousness, a brilliant light burst through the room and flung him back through five walls. You vanished the instant you had the chance, already lost to the Devildom night before he could shake off the dust and process what had happened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You heard voices in your head since then, and when they weren't the smooth timbre of Diavolo, you heard a voice not unlike your own but separate from your person, whispering tales of ages long past and brothers you did not and could not have known. The voice in your head has saved you more times than you can count, the information your other, older self provided enabling you to bypass nobles and royal persons with ease and a tilt of your head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But you could care less of your brothers and your ancestors, most of them sought you only to conquer you, and you were not a prize to be claimed. You were a being with ties to all three realms, a human with celestial blood and demonic influence buzzing through your aura. You were exquisite, you were one of a kind, and no one should have you that easily, be it human, demon, or angel, nor Father himself. You scoffed at the memory of Belphegor's advances, disgusted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tonight, you found yourself in a hidden speakeasy, only the slimiest of the slimy were prized patrons here, and you were dressed in your regular disguise under a false name, preparing a meeting with your informant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A buzz rumbled in your hair, and you sighed irritably, pressing another rune by your temple to quickly receive a call from your boss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What." You hiss with barely hidden contempt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't you get snippy with me, Lil, you know well </span>
  <em>
    <span>'what.'</span>
  </em>
  <span>" The voice on the other line bites with matching venom. "Why isn't the target taken care of yet?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You roll your eyes and are tempted to hang up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I told you weeks ago, I had a minor setback. I'm working on it, if you'd let me work."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If I didn't know any better I'd think you're playing chicken." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel your eye twitch when you reply. "If I didn't know any better, I would imagine you'd hold your tongue before I shove it down your throat, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Boss.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Excuse me?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You heard me." </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prick</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You double tap your temple again, severing the connection. Rolling your shoulders, and cracking your neck, you head towards the bar to ask around for your contact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You sit idly by the bar stool, chatting up the bartender before you name drop your contact and he flicks his head to a nondescript corner of the establishment. A hardened look is painted on your face that reveals no emotion. You wait there for the next </span>
  <em>
    <span>six. hours.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Seething with rage at this point, you figure yourself either stood up or set up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You are at a hair's breadth of disintegrating the entire place and everyone in it should someone make a false move, but you haven't had to reach such dire consequences yet. Yet. You materialize a little D of Wrath in your palm and hiss to it, </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Where are you?"</span>
  </em>
  <span> before throwing it towards the direction of the exit. It scrambles to its feet to send its message, disappearing into the nearby Devildom streets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diavolo scowls at every being that dares get too close, under a disguise himself. He is inches shorter, his hair a shock of bright blonde, wearing black leather with piercings that adorn his face, and rings on his fingers. He looks like any other demon thug that frequents this part of town, and in his hyper-focused state, he nearly topped over the ball of green that timidly followed him, trembling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"S-sir..." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely heard the little D of Wrath the first time it called, shooting a glare its way that nearly evaporated its soul, however, it was more terrified of its sender than its target in the current moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sir!" it called, pleading with the hooded figure to listen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diavolo turned then, his eyes burning with an infernal fire hotter than the flames that lined the deepest part of the Devildom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little D trembled uncontrollably as it delivered it's message, your voice scathing from its mouth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Where are you?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His heart stopped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could have recognized that voice anywhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crazed with hope, he snatches up the little D and holds it inches from his face, the proximity of his gaze breaking the glamour, revealing his true face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little D yelped before Diavolo's claws pierced its skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Quiet,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> He commanded. The little D's mouth vanished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Take me to her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now,</span>
  </em>
  <span> before I end your pathetic existence." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The agent of Wrath scrambled out of his grip and onto the concrete, scurrying about five feet ahead of Diavolo at all times, while the Demon Prince walked leisurely behind it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The little demon nearly ran from him as if being chased, but nevertheless led him to the speakeasy where you waited, your nails gripping the sides of your seat in thinly concealed anger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><em><span>Who the fuck does this thug think he is?</span></em> <em><span>Making me wait like this. Doesn't he know I could end him in a second? I might just end him before I even get the info I need. Fuck.</span></em><span> You ponder to yourself, swirling a glass of hellfire scotch in your palm. You begin to think of alternate avenues of information that don't require this informant, when the little D bursts into the bar in a panic, begging you to release him from his contract. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amused but not surprised, you accept and release him with a wave of your hand, and the minor demon evaporates in the ether. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, this will be interesting,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you think to yourself while you sit smugly and wait, eager to meet the poser that terrified your poor agent so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You lean your chin on your hands and train your gaze on the entrance of the filthy bar when he finally walks in, looking nothing out of the ordinary for the scum that you usually dealt with, but a curious haze hovered just over his skin.</span>
  <em>
    <span> A glamour? Is he in disguise? Well, he's smart at least, I guess I can let him live long enough to hear him out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Erasing the smile from your face, your lips purse in a practiced glare and you grasp for the wrath that filled you not five minutes ago. He strides over to your table, a cocky grin on his face while he passes another drink towards you, placing his down on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hello," he begins tentatively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're late." You reply, your voice dripping with malice. "Where have you been? I have been waiting six. hours to meet with you. Who the hell do you think you are? My time is precious and my time is valuable. Are you stupid, suicidal, or a just a rookie?" You scoffed at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cocky smile grew even wider and a laugh escaped his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hmm, I thought it better to take matters into my own hands if my guards were so incompetent to complete their mission to find the one woman I ask of them, the captain pleading with me that it was only because they were working tirelessly to find my assassin. I guess I shouldn't have made him take a permanent leave of absence if you happened to be one in the same. How curious." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blood drains from your face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"Who ar-'' </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bar falls dead silent when Diavolo drops his glamor. All the patrons and the bartender immediately flee the establishment. You are left alone with the Crowned Prince of the Devildom, the man that appeared in your dreams and your every fantasy since the Gala now sits before you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You are caught. Speechless. "I have been searching for you, scouring every inch, every corner of all three realms to find you." His gaze softens, and you can tell his words ring true. You are caught in a storm of conflicting emotions, but you sputter out one question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wha- why? You know who I am, get on with it, then." You try to stab at him, but to no avail. His eyes echo feelings of compassion and kindness, the same warmth he held when he held your hand in his, offering you a dance and a cheeky kiss to your palm. He is worlds different than the demon he first appeared as.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Get on with what? Arresting you? Punishing you? Executing you?" He answers you softly. "No, my darling, no. I would much rather like to marry you, if you consent, of course. Or if you wish for your freedom, you shall have it." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His words don't register to your brain right away. You're only broken from your trance when you feel him gingerly rest his hand atop yours, quelling the tempest in your mind, but not your heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your chocolate doe eyes hold a thousand questions, and in your silence, he attempts to answer them with an apologetic smile. When you don't tear your hand away, he grows in bolder, gently wrapping his fingers around your palm once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He inhales deeply, the electric touch of your flesh on his reignites his passion and his want all over again, but he contains himself. "I told you, I have searched for you for weeks on end now since your disappearance. I pored through pile after pile of documents of your organization, your history, your </span>
  <em>
    <span>ancestry.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I'm afraid I troubled your eldest brother with thrice the paperwork than he is used to, and rest assured I have punished your youngest brother tenfold for his transgressions. No one shall have you but me, if you are willing." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something about his choice of words irked you. Your lip twitches, and his hand shook with the most subtle of tremors as you replied. You narrowed your eyes at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know of me, know of my actions and of my deeds, and instead of offering punishment, you offer marriage? That seems awfully presumptuous of you and awfully </span>
  <em>
    <span>full of shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>," You spit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diavolo looks like a kicked puppy as he pulls his hand away from yours, his expression dampening. He doesn't meet your eyes and bows his head, in clear deference to you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I cannot arrest you, for you have captured my heart, my very demonic soul, and I cannot fathom why. I have spent all this time searching for the answer why, but I have found none. All I know is that my words are true. My heart is true. If you shall have me, I am yours." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Free me," you demand, and it is done. You feel the Infernal tethers of a curse you've long been plagued with evaporate, and you stand up abruptly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Goodbye, Diavolo," you say, your voice soft. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you for my freedom, but I am not a simple prize to be had." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is silent, bowing his head in acceptance as he watches you go. He curses himself for his eagerness, his hope blinding him from being rational. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> you would be skeptical, mistrusting. After everything you had been through time and time again, shouldn't he have known better? He slams his fist to the table, pulverizing it into splinters in an instant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You bite your lip as you go, forcing your legs to move forward although every fibre of your being is screaming otherwise. You nearly draw blood from your lip as tears stream down your cheeks, but you know you cannot accept an offer that sudden, an offer that... was clearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>too good to be true.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You knew your place. You knew what you were. A shadow. A rat. Vermin. Poison within the pool of the Devildom. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A traitor.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You guess your choice of company had rubbed off on you, perhaps </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diavolo leaves you alone. He calls off his guards, his reinforcements, and his secret attendants to cease their investigation into your whereabouts at once. He maintains his princely demeanor as always, but the spark in his honey colored eyes has died. He still dreams of you every night, thinks of you each passing day, and turns away all offers for visitors and suitors. None of them are you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ceases hosting his grand Galas, the hope and the inevitable disappointment that he may never see your face once more too much for his broken heart. He let his possessiveness, his jealousy, his obsession, his deep seated need to have you, conquer you, control his actions, cloud his heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your final words to him reverberate in his head, "I am not a simple prize to be had." He scoffs at himself, he was just as bad as Belphegor, and the thought angers him and disgusts him. He chastises himself daily, berates himself daily for losing the sunshine that lit up the eternal night that cast itself on the Devildom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Years pass and you remake yourself as an honorable citizen. His last gift to you was an unfathomably large sum of grimm that was left untouched, and instead left on the steps of an orphanage for abandoned demons. You didn't need his charity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The former criminal now held ownership to a simple flower shop, making a life for herself all on her own. It was a unique dual business, selling both fabulous and grand bouquets as well as enlisting several artists that utilized the blossoms in order to create magnificent tattoos unlike any other, creating piercings and jewelry unlike any other. In the years that passed, your little shop never grew more notoriety than as a hidden gem in an oft forgotten part of the Devildom, a town neither wealthy nor poor, and you were comfortable, living a life as you saw fit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As much as you try to erase him from your thoughts though, Diavolo still visits you in your dreams and daydreams, and the bud of affection that had been planted ever since that night never left. You heaved a long sigh as you closed the doors of your shop once more. Of course you had partners, you weren't unattractive nor unfriendly in the past few years, and so many turned their head your way and frequented your shop for more than just the flowers or the tattoos. You gave some a chance here and there, but none were as engaging or as charming as the Prince who plagued your thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, you were fed up entirely. You gathered your long black cloak, asked the workers to watch the shop while you were away, that you had sudden matters to attend to and was unsure when you'd return. You gathered a modest sum of grimm you had been saving for some time, you had been turning this idea in your head for a while. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he cornered you and demanded that you make a choice of him, you couldn't find it in yourself to answer but instead shut him down entirely and rejected him. But now, as you stood hesitantly by the entrance of the Castle you had originally fled from so many years ago, you had finally made a decision. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A smooth voice sounds behind you, and you jump, whirling around to face the source. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have been expecting you. Welcome my lady, come." Barbatos says with a deep bow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without another word or explanation, he continues forward dutifully, opening the doors to the Castle with a wave and waits as you step inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your heart is beating out of your chest, but Barbatos faces you with the same expressionless gaze. "I am pleased that you have chosen this path. There have been a number of ways that this could have ended, and not ended well for you, nor my Lord." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With those cryptic words, Barbatos leads you upstairs and down a long hallway to a pair of golden gilded doors that you can only assume are Diavolo's chambers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He is inside," he says to you simply and turns away, rapping twice on the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My Lord, you have a visitor who wishes for an audience with you." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Send them away! Barb, I thought I made my orders very clear!" Comes his voice from the other side of the door, clearly tired and irritated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something pangs in your heart, and you wonder how the past few years have treated him. If they were as kind to him as they were to you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My Lord, I think you should consider meeting with this visitor." Barbatos insists, and with a loud sigh on the opposite of the door, it opens, and Diavolo stops in place as his eyes land on you in the doorway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Barbatos opens the doors with another wave of his hand and he gently pushes you inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I shall leave you to your business at once, my Lord." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuts the large doors behind you, leaving you and Diavolo alone with each other. Diavolo blinks and rubs his eyes, uncertain if you are real and truly standing before him. He calms his heart before it races, wary of the hope that he allows to build in his chest. He doesn't quite know what to say. For someone who always had slick words and charming quips to say, to see him this flabbergasted and off guard greatly pleases a small hidden sadistic part of you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hello, my Lord," you say slowly, testing the words in your mouth, and weighing on how they feel. You decide you enjoy the way they roll off your tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hello," he replies cautiously, unsure of how to proceed, and terrified that anything he does or could say would only drive you away again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has stepped back to the center of the room, wringing his hands anxiously as he avoids your gaze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You smile at him warmly, attempting to ease his timid demeanor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have a proposition to offer you," you say confidently, stepping forward to meet him and his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reluctantly looks up at you, his honeyed spheres awash with conflicting emotions, wanting nothing more than to reach forward and hold you in his arms, keeping you there forever more, but he also prized your agency, and wanted to hear you would say next. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He swallowed and steeled himself for your words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And what may that proposition be?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Friendship," you say assertively. "Friendship, not marriage, not companionship, but friendship. That is what I offer you. I am a gift to be received, and not a prize to be had. You do not own me, nor will you have me, I will give myself to you if I so choose. That is how it will work. But for right now, I offer you friendship." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His breath catches in his throat as his eyes well with tears, threatening to spill over. He nods furiously. "Yes, certainly, yes my La- friend."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You nod once in your affirmation. You reach up slowly, hesitant in your actions as you open your palm and wipe a stray tear that fell from his cheek with your thumb. You look at him, dripping with tenderness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I am sorry for walking out on you, but I hope you have been well, Diavolo, my dear... friend." You smile at him and he couldn't be happier. He can't believe it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have to go now, but you shall see me again. I will come to visit when I have the time, and you are welcome to visit my shop, Floral Ink any time of day. Good night, Diavolo, and..." you pause, biting your lip. His heart melts, it's the cutest thing he's ever seen. "I hope to see you soon." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And visit you he does, he makes the trip from his Castle to your humble abode at least once every week without fail, courting you sweetly and leisurely until you fall for him all over again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The moments he holds you in his arms are the ones that made all the pain, all the sadness, and all tears he shed during those years without you worth it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You were the first one to say it. The words he had followed your name every time he thought of you. Laying in a post-coital tangle, you had been dating officially for a while now, and after another night of passionate lovemaking, you finally felt ready. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You turn to him, lips brushing against his sweaty temple, his auburn hair damp and stuck to his forehead. He opens his eyes drowsily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mmmn?" Your hand finds his cheek, and your thumb caresses his flushed skin softly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I love you," you murmur, and your every word is sincere and true. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diavolo's eyes widen and he holds his hand over yours, bringing it to the back of his head while he pulls you close, his lips hot against yours in a soft, but needy kiss. You are eager to return his fervor, and you savor in the taste of each other until you run out of breath. When he finally pulls away, the fire in his eyes simmer to that of a warmth hearth that feels like home. His heart feels like home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I love you too, my princess, I always have," he says quietly. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>